A/N: Well, thanks to leathman for reviewing last chapter.
Chapter XIV: Duel to the Death
3 November 2998
The problem with being a prodigy was that Sci-Pol promoted you to important ranks – which came with increasingly demanding responsibilities the higher up you went – far more quickly than others. Shvaughn Erin was only 20 years old, but she was already a second lieutenant who was expected to handle major cases – like the accident in the Botanic Gardens and security for R.J. Brande's charity auction. Shvaughn sighed as she observed the auction below from her position on the gallery, scanning for any sign of trouble. All she could see from here were well-dressed socialites and businesspeople, most with a drink in their hands as they made conversation with their neighbors – but there were other Sci-Pol officers guarding the entrances and exits and a few plainclothes members working the room itself.
"Keep your eyes and ears open," Shvaughn instructed the other Science Police; there was a chorus of affirmations from her comlink. Satisfied, Shvaughn returned to watching the room as Brande stepped up to the podium. She didn't truly expect anything to happen here – but with the recent murders and Brande's lofty status, one couldn't be too careful.
"Welcome, everyone, to this charity auction." Brande had a genuine grin on his face and his voice boomed from the microphone. "I am honored to be hosting this event, and pleased to see so many faces. The Superman Musuem has graciously consented to hold this auction to clear out ancient artifacts from the Age of Heroes which they do not wish to keep. I personally think the manager is slightly crazy not to want to hold on to relics from such a wonderful time…" His teasing tone prompted laughter from the crowd. "…but it's a good thing for people like us, who would love to display a piece of such a magnificent part of history in our own homes.
"The funds raised here today will be donated to the New Metropolis Children's Foundation, to help provide a better life for many children in the city. I'm sure Superman himself would approve." There were amicable smiles and nods of agreement. Brande continued, "The manager has informed me that there are over twenty artifacts in the auction, including a signal watch that Superman supposedly gave Jimmy Olsen, a painting that most people believe was given to Superman by Wonder Woman, and even a beautiful crystalline statuette carved from the ice of the mythical Fortress of Solitude. I'll be bidding for that myself," he added with a conspiratorial wink.
"Now remember, this is a charity event, so I hope you'll all give generously. However, the most important thing is that you enjoy yourselves." The guests murmured their hearty approval. Brande grinned. "Why, I'm glad you agree." He raised his champagne flute. "Let the auction begin!"
Rokk and Imra's reaction to Garth's cry of pain was instant. Rokk roared, "Garth!" and levitated himself to the ground on the flat metal disc he'd set aside for this very purpose, while Imra leapt down using a Sci-Pol Academy-issued grapple gun, a psychic blast already throbbing within her mind.
"Garth, what happened? Report!"Her voice was anxious.
There was nothing but static, and, fearing the worst, the two teenagers rushed to the Superman statue, reaching their target at the same time. Both Rokk and Imra slid off their holorings and became visible, but there was still no sign of Garth.
"Garth, where are you?" Rokk demanded. "Garth!"
Imra looked fearful. "Rokk, you don't think he's…"
"No," Rokk said at once. "No, he's not."
"But how would we –"
"He's not!" Rokk said forcefully. "Garth!" he called again. "Garth, this isn't a time to hide! Imra…" He turned back to her. "Can you find him?"
She sucked in a breath. "I'll try." She closed her eyes and concentrated, but before the tell-tale pink glow appeared a familiar voice reached their ears.
"…stupid, sprocking statue getting in my way…"
Rokk and Imra exchanged a glance, both relieved and exasperated.
"Garth, take off your ring," Rokk ordered.
"Huh? Oh." A second later, Garth appeared in front of them, cradling his right arm with his left.
"What happened?" Rokk demanded.
Garth looked irate. "I tripped on Superman's feet and fell headfirst off the pedestal! I think I might have broken something. OW!" He glared at Imra, who was prodding his injured arm experimentally.
"It's not broken," she said. "It's probably just a sprain."
"Oh, that makes me feel so much better."
She gave him a withering look. "How did you trip in the first place?"
"It's not my fault! My legs were invisible!"
"You can still feel them, can't you?"
"Yell at him later, Imra," Rokk interjected. "Garth, where did he go?"
"He's inside."
Those meddling kids were interfering again. He hadn't seen them – they were smart enough to camouflage themselves this time – but he had clearly heard one of them yelp loudly behind him. He hadn't bothered to turn back to see what happened, opting instead to slip into the museum quickly. He wasn't overly concerned about the three teens – he only needed a few minutes to carry out his objective – after that he could go to prison for all he cared, but he had to kill R.J. Brande. He'd been waiting for this moment for years.
There was no way he could mingle with the wealthy guests – nothing he owned could pass for the fine clothing they were all wearing – but the auction was in full swing and only a few people paid him any notice as he lingered in the back. After all, people entered the Superman Museum all the time.
His eyes narrowed under his hood as he glimpsed Loretta Lane, and he felt his blood begin to boil at the sight of her typing notes into her handheld holograph tablet. He briefly contemplated taking her out then and there, but that would cause too much of a scene and he would never be able to get to the person he'd actually come for. With a shake of his head, he sidled out of Loretta's line of sight just as she raised her head.
Someone had just purchased a restored photograph of the Justice League's Original Seven, and in the resulting applause he was able to edge towards the side without anyone paying him the slightest bit of attention. He'd worked his way into a pocket of space near the corner of the room by the side of the stage, and he ducked his hand under his coat, fingers clenching around his blaster. In a few more seconds, R.J. Brande would be taking the stage again to introduce the next bidding item, and then he would finally fulfill his revenge.
Just a little while more…
Outside, Rokk, Imra, and Garth were already moving to the east entrance, which led directly into the part of the museum where the auction was taking place.
"Remember, just as we planned," Rokk instructed as they raced around the building. His two partners nodded.
"We have to hurry; he's almost ready to act." Imra's eyes were glowing.
"No rings," Garth said firmly as they reached the door. "I need to be able to see where you are."
"Fine," Rokk conceded curtly.
They paused for the briefest of moments outside the door. Later they would look back on the instant they opened that door as the moment when their lives changed forever, but right now the only thing on their minds was catching a killer.
Garth yanked the door open, ignoring the alarmed shout of the Sci-Pol behind it, and the three of them swept inside. A lot of things happened simultaneously: Imra made Brande duck the same way she'd forced Rokk to the ground in the Botanic Gardens; Rokk used his magnetism to whisk the assassin's weapon from his hands; Garth cut off the Science Police's attempt to restrain them by surrounding them with a contained electrical field; and all around, people screamed and scrambled away from the conflict, while the Sci-Pol among the crowd pulled out their phasers and pointed them at the three teenagers.
"Put your hands in the air!"
"Seriously?" Garth demanded, keeping the electrical barrier intact. "We're trying to help."
"It's true, officers," Rokk backed him up, still suspending the killer's blaster. "This is the criminal. He was going to kill Brande."
Imra, meanwhile, was beginning to approach Brande, only to have one Sci-Pol swing his firearm towards her.
"Lower your weapons!" Shvaughn commanded as she swung down from the gallery. "That's a Sci-Pol cadet."
"Lieutenant Erin!" Imra exclaimed in recognition.
"You have five seconds to tell me what the hell is going on here, Ardeen."
Imra opened her mouth to answer, but the assassin chose that moment to shove her into the path of Garth's electric field.
A horrified Garth hastily cut the flow of lightning from his hands, but not before Imra was electrocuted. "Imra!"
Now that Garth's lightning was no longer keeping him trapped, the way was free for the killer to advance on Brande, who was dazedly rising from where Imra had forced him to the floor. In the blink of an eye, the killer whipped out a knife. Shvaughn and two other officers threw themselves at him, but they were not able to reach him before he flung the blade at Brande with a feral snarl. Quick as thought, Rokk pried a metal panel from a display case and hauled it into the knife's trajectory. The blade split through the panel with a harsh screech, stopping just short of Brande's chest as its hilt smacked into the metal sheet.
By this time the Science Police had managed to subdue the kicking and screaming assassin, but Shvaughn had turned her attention to Garth, who was sparkling with electricity, anger plain on his face.
"Hey, Sparky, shut it off," she ordered. When he made no move to comply, she raised her phaser. "Or do I have to put you down?"
Garth clenched his hands into fists. "He hurt her," he hissed, voice trembling with the strain of keeping the electricity from charging out.
"Last I checked, that was your electric barrier."
That was absolutely the wrong thing to say. Garth's fury rose, and his lightning flickered crazily around him.
"Garth!" Rokk said sharply. "Calm down!"
The Winathian's blue eyes widened as he realized what was happening, but the lightning had reached uncontrollable levels. "Rokk, shield them."
"No."
"Rokk!"
"You can control this, Garth. Imra taught you how." Rokk had moved the recovering Imra out of Garth's direct range, but he had not taken any other steps to protect them. His violet eyes were serious, but there was faith in them too. "You can do this."
For a second Garth merely stood there staring at Rokk with electricity dancing over his skin, then he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, recalling what Imra had told him.
"You need to find an anchor, something that'll help you calm down whenever you get too angry or too anxious."
"Which is?"
Imra shrugged. "I don't know. That's for you to decide."
Garth frowned. "Well, how do I know what it is?"
"It'll be something – or someone – which makes you feel peaceful, and you'll usually also have a positive emotional connection to it. It's the first thing that comes to mind when you think of calm and serenity…" Imra's voice trailed off as she saw the picture in Garth's head. "Oh…" she said softly.
Garth flushed. "Sorry, I didn't mean –"
"No – no, that's okay…I mean, if that's what your anchor is…"
"I could change it," he offered quickly.
Despite herself, Imra smiled slightly. "It doesn't work that way, Garth. If that's your anchor, stick with it."
"Are you sure?" he asked hesitantly.
"It's fine, Garth," she assured him, though her cheeks were slightly pink. "Shall we try again?"
As his mind conjured up Imra's smiling face, Garth felt the lightning recede back into his body. The usual tingling intensified for an instant, but then gradually faded. He opened his eyes and saw several Science Police, Shvaughn included, still warily aiming their phasers at him. He held up his hands apologetically.
"It's okay, I've got it under control now," he assured them, his expression rueful. "Sorry."
Shvaughn narrowed her green eyes at him, and after a moment's consideration, she tucked her phaser back in its holster; the other Sci-Pol followed her lead. "Imra, are you all right?"
"I'm okay," Imra affirmed, to Garth and Rokk's relief. "I didn't get burned – it was more shock than anything."
"Thank Nath," Garth breathed.
"Glad to hear it," said Shvaughn. She crossed her arms and glared at them, her tone becoming stern. "Now –"
Imra's eyes flashed suddenly, and she turned her head to the ceiling. "Brande!"
Acting on instinct, Rokk formed a shield around Brande just as the gunshot rang out. Garth lit up the gallery where Shvaughn had been, revealing a cloaked figure running through the shadows created by his lightning.
"Who's that?" Rokk demanded.
"Another assassin," Imra replied.
"Seal all the exits!" Shvaughn barked to the Sci-Pol, who instantly moved to do so.
"He's not going that way," said Imra.
"Where's he going?" asked Garth.
"Out the roof."
"The roof?" sputtered Shvaughn.
A metal platform appeared next to them. "Hop on," Rokk said to Garth and Imra. They unhesitatingly clambered onto the metal, and Rokk made the platform shoot upwards.
"Hey!" Shvaughn yelled. "Where do you think you're going?!"
Rokk manipulated the platform to chase after the second assassin, keeping it as stable as he could, but Garth and Imra still wobbled for balance.
"Rokk, don't spill us over!" Garth yelped as he nearly fell off the platform, rescued only by the hand Imra shot out to grab him.
"I'm doing the best I can," Rokk retorted. "You want speed or you want stability?"
"I need to be stable to be useful!"
"Fine, fine!" Rokk concentrated, and a bit of metal moved up all their shoes, sheathing their feet and essentially gluing them to the platform. Once they were secure, he made the platform accelerate. "Which way did he go?"
"Right," said Imra. "There's a skylight in the north wing; he's going to break through there."
Without a word, Rokk made a sharp turn to the right which would have thrown them all off the platform if their feet weren't stuck in the metal.
"There he is!" Imra exclaimed, pointing as she caught sight of the fleeting figure turning a corner.
The assassin buried a shruiken in the main power switch, plunging the room into darkness. Garth reacted immediately, using his lightning to help them see, carefully keeping the electric charge from traveling through his feet and thereby conducting through the metal to shock Rokk and Imra. They had almost caught up to the assassin by this point – ten meters behind and closing in fast. Imra narrowed her eyes as their quarry clambered over a balcony.
"Garth, decide fast," she said. "I can knock him out, but you have to catch him before he falls to his death."
Rokk looked askance at this idea, but Garth had no qualms. "Do it."
Rokk let the metal recede from Garth's feet as Imra's eyes glowed with power; a second later, the assassin collapsed limply, toppling off the balcony. Garth launched himself from Rokk's platform, rocketing into the falling man and grabbing him with both hands as gravity pulled them downwards, to the horrified fascination of the auction guests and Sci-Pol who had made their way to the north wing. Rokk ignored them, fisting his hands as the platform shot forwards and downwards, catching Garth and the assassin before they hit the floor. There was a collective sigh of relief as Rokk landed the platform; some people even clapped, impressed by the display of power and teamwork.
"Ow," Garth groaned; his landing was gentler than it would have been if he hit the floor, but it certainly hadn't been soft.
"Are you all right, Garth?" Imra inquired.
"It's not something I want to do again," he confessed, "but Rokk caught me pretty well." He grinned at the Braalian, who huffed and rolled his eyes.
"You're welcome."
Garth handed the unconscious assassin over to a nearby Sci-Pol as several reporters started pressing towards the heroic trio. Surprisingly, Loretta Lane was the one exception. Garth's eyes widened slightly and he unconsciously backed up against Rokk and Imra. "Um…"
"Don't worry, Garth, I'll handle it," Rokk assured him, knowing the other boy was uncomfortable with the attention.
As it turned out, though, Rokk's intervention was unnecessary. Shvaughn pushed her way through the gathering crowd and took control of the situation, effectively dissuading the paparazzi from asking any of the numerous questions ready to spill from their lips.
"You three – any more assassins?" Shvaughn asked peevishly.
Imra shook her head. "No."
"Fantastic," the lieutenant deadpanne . "Now would you mind telling me what the sprock just happened?"
A/A:
1. I don't think I explained this before, but Nath is the foremost god in Winath's pantheon of agricultural deities.